Holiday Spirit
by FatGlamour
Summary: Granger, I understand the incessant need most people have for getting absolutely besotted with the holiday, but I don’t quite think this is what is expected. DHr fluff!


_**Holiday Spirit**_

Stuck in the Grimmauld Place with the rest of the Order, Draco couldn't help wondering just what this Christmas would entail.

The Weasels and Potter, of course, would be bad enough on any day but on Christmas, well, Draco would rather not think about it. It was already sickening to watch Weaselette attack Potter under the mistletoe, and Molly Weasley was baking enough gingerbread that he constantly felt the compulsion to gag.

Now, however, he was blissfully alone in his mediocre room, with the lingering smell of flowers wafting from Granger's room across the hall. He smiled and leaned against his headboard, intent on getting in some much wanted reading in while the house was quiet.

Sadly, the silence lasted for a total of ten pristine seconds.

An almost inhuman shriek wafted up from the downstairs parlor. Heart pounding, Draco grabbed his wand and headed down the stairs, possible hexes flitting through his mind. He jumped into the doorway, holding his wand outstretched, curse almost out of his mouth–

"It's only me, Malfoy."

Draco blinked once, twice, and then, in wonder of all wonders, he laughed.

Her affronted voice wafted up to him from her spot on the floor. "It's really not that funny!"

Slowly, Draco straightened up, mask firmly on his pale face, trying to save as much dignity as possible. He raised one eyebrow in her direction and walked forward the pluck a red ribbon from its place draped atop her head.

"Granger, I understand the incessant need most people have for getting absolutely besotted with the holiday, but I don't quite think this is what is expected."

Indeed, Hermione sat on the floor in front of the hearth, looking as if she had been attacked with Christmas decorations. Ribbons were all around her, most tangled in her hair haphazardly. Tinsel was sparking as well in her hair and sticking to her jumper. A wreath hung around her neck and rolls of wrapping paper were strewn across the floor and even a few had landed on the sofa behind her.

"Were you trying to wrap yourself as a present for Weasel?"

"I'm laughing, really, Draco," she deadpanned, attempting to throw the wreath off her neck only for it to become tangled in her hair.

Draco watched her struggle with it but the more she seemed to the more it nestled in her frizzy curls. He watched until she became so frustrated that a tear fell from her eye. With an almost world weary sigh, he walked over to her, took a hold of her shoulders and steered her to the sofa. She almost collapsed into it, roughly fisting at the tears in her eyes.

"Now, Granger, be still."

His fingers reached for the wreath only for her to yank her head away from him and effectively getting herself even more stuck. He glared at her as she stood up and once again began pulling at it. He stalked toward her and made to grab the wreath just as she jerked her body. He was pulled toward her until they were flush up against the other, Granger staring at him with wide doe-like eyes.

"Malfoy, umm… you can step back now."

And he tried.

"Granger, the bloody wreath is snagged in my shirt."

"Oh…"

He reached for the hem of his jumper and carefully pulled it over his head. Now, not only was the wreath around Hermione's neck but his jumper was hanging from it as well.

Her face held the epitome of shock. "Now, what was that supposed to do?!"

"It keeps me from being tied to you!" He sneered at her before stalking toward her once more. "Now, come here, you stupid girl, so I can return to my book!"

"Really, Malfoy, you are hardly a knight in shining armor!"

"Just come here, you silly bint!"

For a moment, they scuffled against each other, arguing so loudly that they soon set off the portrait of Mrs. Black. And so lost were they in their bickering that they never noticed the fire flair high and bright green until suddenly, three large boxes came barreling into the room from the hearth. The boxes hit the two in the legs, causing them to lose their balance only to fall – into a rather compromising position – on the lumpy old sofa, wrapping paper crunching underneath their bodies.

They lay there for a moment, completely silent, staring at the other. Hermione licked her lips nervously effectively drawing Draco's gaze to them. He looked back up into her eyes, his own showing a cold grey fire. He leaned his head down toward hers, until their lips were only an inch away.

"Draco, what are you doing?"

"I haven't the faintest, Granger." His eyes went across the room to where the Christmas tree sat sparkling. "Perhaps, we should get into the holiday spirit."

He leaned closer the barest fraction, but near enough to cause her to gulp anxiously. "But there is no mistletoe."

Draco smirked, leaning forward and whispering against her lips, "Just pretend, Granger."


End file.
